


Snapshots and Soundtracks

by itchyfingers



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mental Illness, Romance, sexual activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story told about Benedict Cumberbatch and a struggling new relationship told by inspiration provided by various gifs and songs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breakfast at Tiffany's - Deep Blue Something

 

“Amelia, please let me in.”

Her heart was breaking. She could see his face on the screen, hear his voice pleading through the intercom. Tears were welling in his eyes and there was a slight quiver in his chin.

“I am so sorry, Amelia. It was a mistake!”

She pressed the talk button. “A mistake is forgetting to buy veg at the market, not kissing another woman!”

“I fucked up! Please, just let me in so we can talk,” he pleaded. His deep voice was rough with tears and frustration.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You were kissing your ex-girlfriend.”

“I’m going to stay here on your doorstep until you let me in.”

“No you won’t. You wouldn’t want the bad press,” she retorted.

He shook his head. “I don’t care about the press. I care about you. I will stay here until you let me in.” He shifted how he was standing, going from begging to staking out his territory.

“Just go away, Ben. You promised you would never hurt me and you lied.” The hurt in her voice was so evident it was practically visible.

He crumpled under her words. “Lia, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I fucked up. Please let me fix this.”

Her reply was barely audible. “This isn’t something that can be fixed.”

“Let me try. Please, Lia, let me explain,” he begged.

“I’m turning off the volume. Just go away. Please, just leave me alone,” she asked one last time.

Lia turned off the volume and then went upstairs to her bedroom, tears running down her cheeks. She had been dating Ben for the last few months, taking it slow at her insistence. She had been nervous about the idea of dating a big star, but their chemistry when they had met at his parents’ Christmas party had been unmistakable. Her mother had practically shoved her at him, but once they got over the awkward introductions, they had found that they could talk easily and at length about many topics. He loved that she had her own motorbike, and she found it wonderful that he didn’t think she was wasting her time getting a Ph.D. in comparative literature. She had been one of the last people to leave the party, and Ben had only let her go after calling the number she had given him to make sure it was correct.

She unzipped the dress she had purchased for the party they had attended that night, a teal almost knee-length version of the dress Aubrey Hepburn had worn in _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_. She had been nervous since this was going to be her first time attending an event with a lot of famous people, so she had spent a lot of time and money getting ready for the evening. The look on his face when he had arrived to collect her had been worth it. “Darling, you have always been beautiful, but you look absolutely exquisite.”

She hung the dress in her closet, wondering if she would ever want to wear it again. She touched the soft fabric, recalling the feel of his hand gentle and reassuring on her back as he had escorted her through the party. He had introduced her to everyone as his girlfriend, a word that sounded both wonderful and odd to her ear in its unfamiliarity.

As the evening wore on, after the official charity part of the event was done, she had enjoyed getting to see Ben interact with his peers. She hadn’t really met most of his friends yet, and was flattered at how easily they included her in their camaraderie. After a long while, most of it spent listening to them share embarrassing stories about Ben, he excused himself, saying he would be right back. She assumed he had to use the loo, but as she stood there chatting with his friends, and the minutes slowly ticked away, she started to get concerned. She had excused herself politely, and then gone to look for him. The event was at one of those big theaters so she hadn’t really any idea where to start looking for him, but luckily for her, Ben was well enough known that one of the staff remembered seeing him, and pointed out a small conference room that she had seen him enter. Wondering if he was having a headache and just needed some quiet and dark, she carefully opened the door.

The lights were out in the room, but there was enough ambient light from the windows to see Ben and his ex-girlfriend kissing. He was resting against the large table in the middle of the room. She was standing between his spread legs, her hands against his chest. He had her face in his hands and was kissing her thoroughly, his lips moving against hers with familiar passion. They were so caught up in each other that they hadn’t even noticed the door open. She slowly closed it, making sure to create no sound. She crossed quickly to where she had checked her coat, picked up the beautifully Burberry jacket she had splurged on, and headed out the front doors of the theatre. A valet quickly handed her into a waiting cab, and she managed to give the cabbie her address without crying. A few minutes into the ride, her phone buzzed.

“Darling, where are you? I can’t seem to find you anywhere.”

She stared at the text from Ben, stunned at this level of duplicity. Tears were running silently down her cheeks, despite her best efforts to not cry in front of the help, and she typed in a response through blurred vision.

“I thought you and Anna could use some alone time so I left. That was Anna, right? You weren’t just snogging some random brunette?”

Her phone rang within seconds of hitting send. Ben’s face popped up on her screen and she hung up the call. It rang again and she repeated her action. Another text. “Please, Lia, answer your phone.” Instead she turned it completely off. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, resting it against the seat. The traffic was stop and go through downtown, but the cabbie finally pulled up in front of her house. She was just shutting the door when she saw another cab pulling up in front of her house; Ben had followed her home. He was looking at her pleadingly as she shut the door. She wouldn’t let herself cry in front of him and so she had suffered through the door as he begged her to talk to him. And now here she was, standing in front of her closet in her underclothes crying. This was not how she had imagined this evening going.

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, a terrifying noise when you live alone. She grabbed her dressing gown and tried to put it on, cursing mentally at leaving her mobile downstairs on the entry table. As she was struggling to get the robe on, Ben appeared in the doorway to her room.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared me!”

“Lia, please listen,” he started.

She cut him off. “How the fuck did you get in?”

“Through the back door.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, “How did you get back there?”

“I hopped your fence.”

“You did what?” She was astounded.

“Lia, just listen to me.”

She stalked up to him, her robe streaming behind her as she crossed the room, and slapped him hard across the face, his head snapping to the side under the force of the blow.

“Get. Out.”

Her handprint was red on his cheek as he slowly turned his head back to her. “I deserved that.”

“I know you did. You introduced me to half the BBC and a quarter of Parliament and then went and got frisky in a dark room with your ex and then you broke into my house. You deserve to be arrested, you asshole. How dare you treat me like that!”

She realized suddenly that he wasn’t looking at her face; instead his gaze was fixed considerably lower. She looked down and realized that her dressing gown was hanging open, revealing the lingerie she had worn under her dress. The purple overbust corset cinched in her waist and curved down over her hips, stopping above tiny lace knickers. Ribbons from the bottom of the corset hooked to the top of thigh high sheer black stockings. Amelia blushed hotly and gathered her robe around her. She knotted the sash tightly about her waist and stepped back, the heat in Ben’s gaze suddenly sapping the anger from her limbs.

“Do you always wear lingerie like that, or was it for a special occasion?” His voice was impossibly deeper than normal and had a choked quality to it that she had never heard before.

“I had planned on sleeping with you tonight. At least that’s one thing I won’t have to regret.” She brushed past him and headed down the stairs. She opened the front door and turned to him. He stood on the stairs, halfway down, his shoulders slumping under his suit coat. “Can we please talk?” he pled with her.

“There’s nothing you can say that will make what you did alright. You knew my last boyfriend cheated on me and how long it took me to get over that, and then you just repeated his behavior. You betrayed my trust. I don’t want any more memories of you, especially in my house. Please, just leave.”

She sounded broken, even to her own ears, but her pain must have finally gotten through to him. He walked down the rest of the stairs and paused in front of her. She refused to look up at him, and he brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. She jerked her head back from the caress like it was poisonous.

“I am so sorry, Lia. So incredibly sorry.” And he left.


	2. My Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy

When Amelia left for university the next morning, she found a large white box sitting on her front step. Inside she found dozens of tulips in every shade from white through the deepest purple.  Without even looking at the card, she knew they were from Ben. She wanted to throw the whole arrangement in the bin, but she couldn’t find it in herself to destroy something so beautiful. She fetched several vases from the cupboard, and distributed the blossoms between them, leaving the card unopened on the counter. She stared at the card for a long minute, and then tucked it in her bag to deal with later.

After her morning seminar, where she felt barely coherent, she grabbed some lunch and then headed to her carrel in the library. Tucked away on the third floor, she pulled out her laptop and opened it. She stared at her screen, trying to force herself to focus on the open document. Her thesis prospectus was due in three weeks, and now was not the time to be fooling around, but all she could think about was the small card squirreled away in her bag.

She retrieved the envelope and held it in her hands. She turned it over nervously several times, wondering if she really wanted to know what he had written. Her curiosity finally got the better of her, and she opened the envelope and pulled out the folded piece of paper inside.

“Lia,

Words are both of our lifeblood, so it is inexcusable that I cannot find the words to apologize for the pain I inflicted on you last night. Perhaps it is because there have not been words derived that can fully capture the sound that my heart made when I saw the tears on your cheeks knowing that I had placed them there. Maybe it is that there is not a language on the earth that is capable of expressing the regret that has coursed through my veins from the moment I pushed Anna away last night. Possibly it is because it would require the tongues of angels to speak my true sorrow at having added even one iota to the sum of pain you have felt in your life.

You told me to go away and I will. I won’t try and contact you, but I want you to know that I desperately want to talk to you face to face, and though there is no excuse for what I did, I want to explain what happened because I hope it might temper your sorrow, and it might help you put an end to our story that will bring you more peace than the one that I placed there last night.

Please, if you can forgive me enough to bear talking to me, call me, and I will meet you at any time and any place.

Ben”

She was crying again. She didn’t realize it until a tear splashed on the heavy linen weave of the paper, blurring the ink of the word it landed on. She hastily wiped away the tears from her face and tucked the letter back in her bag. She pulled out her binder full of heavily annotated pages of _Le Morte d’Arthur_ and forced herself to concentrate.

A week later, the note was still in her book bag. It didn’t bear any more tear marks, but that was more out of luck than any actual lack of crying, and its folds were frayed and worn. She had spent the last week wondering what he could possibly say to make things any better. She had almost called him a dozen times but had always hung up, not ready to face him. This time, though, she actually let the call go through. It was answered so fast he must have had his phone in his hand.

“Lia.”

“Benedict.”

“Thank you for calling me. It’s been so difficult to not call you a dozen times a day.”

“You said you wanted to talk. Do you have time this evening?”

“For you, of course.”

They agreed on a café that she had never been to and a time and awkwardly said goodbye. She arrived at the café fifteen minutes late after arguing with herself about whether or not she should even go. Ben was waiting for her, having secured a table in a little alcove where they would have some privacy. He stood when he saw her, and she crossed the open room quickly. He had on a plaid shirt over a grey tee, and some worn jeans. He looked exhausted and his normally vivacious personality seemed muted. She sat across from him at the table, feeling like this had been a huge mistake.

The awkward silence was broken by a server asking what she wanted. She was quickly brought her chamomile tea and scone, at which point she looked at Ben and said, “Well, what did you want to tell me?”

He was staring at his tea. For once he seemed to be at a loss of words. He finally looked up at her. “I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I’m not expecting you to forgive me. I just want you to know what happened. All of what happened, not just what you saw, however much or what that was.”

She just looked at him impassively, so he continued.

“I know we agreed to take it slow, and while we did physically, my heart was racing ahead. From the first night we met, no one has ever turned on my brain like you do. Talking to you has been the highlight of every day since then. I knew I was falling for you, but I wasn’t sure how you were feeling about me. And then last night.” He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, causing his curls to fall forward across his forehead. “I don’t think you have any idea about how gorgeous you are. You opened your door that night, and you just blew me away. You’ve always reminded me of Snow White, with the dark hair and the pale skin but that night you looked like a goddess. Elegant and beautiful, and as I introduced you to my friends and you seemed so at home and held your own with some of the biggest names in the country, and your gracefulness in front of the paparazzi and your…just, you. You are everything I could ever hope for in a woman.”

He scanned her face for any reaction, but beyond the blush pricking color into her cheeks, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He took a sip of his tea and continued.

“I realized as I was standing there with you that I was in love with you. And not just in love, but the kind of love that I had never felt before. I hadn’t even told you that I loved you, and I just knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Amelia’s tea cup rattled in the saucer as she set it down quickly. “What did you just say?” She honestly thought she must have misheard him.

“I love you, and I want to marry you.”

She hadn’t misheard him. “But…” her voice trailed off. She didn’t even know how to address the enormity of that statement.

He made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. “Exactly! It was like getting hit with a lightning bolt, but I knew it down to my core. You are the woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, and I hadn’t even told you that I loved you yet. It seemed incredible.

“It is more than a bit unbelievable,” she agreed, skeptical of the motivation behind this sudden revelation.

“And I panicked. Because what if you didn’t love me? Not to mention the whole thought of forever. I mean, it’s something I want, I think it’s something most people want, but forever is still a big deal. And what if you never came to love me? How was I going to spend the rest of my life alone, or with someone who I knew was in your shadow? How would that be fair to her?” He genuinely seemed to be in anguish over this.

“And when I was crossing the lobby I bumped into Anna, and I stopped to say hello. And we chatted for a few minutes, and she flirted a bit, and I flirted back, and in a moment of stupidity that I will regret for the rest of my life, I didn’t stop her when she pulled me into that room. I wanted to know if I could feel anything for her still, or what it would be like with her after knowing that I loved you. And I don’t know what or how much you saw, but we just kissed for a few minutes. We didn’t do anything else, I promise, and I stopped because I realized how wrong it was and went looking for you and you know the rest,” his voice trailed off. “And then I broke into your house. I’m sorry about that, too.”

She just stared at him for a few moments, and then blinked a few times. “Um, I really want to believe you, but I don’t know if I can. I want to believe that you love me but you’re such a good actor that you could make someone believe you meant whatever you said. It’s really easy to say something, but actions speak louder than words. You say you love me, but you kissed another girl. I mean, what would happen if we got married? Would you shag a stripper at your stag party?”

He didn’t say anything, but just reached in his pocket and pulled out something small. He set it on the table in front of her. Amelia looked down at the small blue velvet box and then back up at him.

“Go ahead, open it,” he prompted.

She noticed her hands were shaking as she reached out and opened the box. It was a diamond ring. She stared at the large oval center diamond surrounded by small round stones. She looked back up at Ben, trying to see if this was some sort of joke. He was smiling, but it wasn’t in jest.

“If you would marry me, it would make me the happiest man on earth. If you say yes tonight, I will spend the rest of my days making your life as happy as possible. If you want to make me wait, if you want me to re-earn your trust, I will do that. If you give me the slightest hope that someday you might be able to forgive me I will wait for you. If you want to say no, you can, but just know that I will always be there for you. I will always wait for you. There is no one but you for me, and there never will be.”

Amelia alternated between looking at Ben’s face and the ring. She was feeling completely and totally overwhelmed.

“I, uh,” she paused, “this is really unexpected.” She looked like she was about to start crying. “I, um, I’m flattered, but I can’t do this. I don’t want a proposal as an apology in a coffee shop. I just want…I don’t even know what I want right now. But it’s not this. It’s not this frantic need you have. I mean, we’ve known each other less than three months and you want to get married? Doesn’t that sound insane to you?” Her voice was slowly rising in pitch as she got increasingly panicked by what was going on.

“It does.” His deep voice resonated calm. He reached out his hand and placed it gently over hers where it was holding the ring box. She jerked her hand back slightly when he touched it, but left it in his grip. He closed his long fingers over her hand. “And I honestly don’t expect you to say yes right now. But I want you to know where my heart is. I feel the need to be completely honest with you.” She rolled her eyes. “I know,” he responded with a note of humor, “but better late than never, right?”

He looked so hopefully at her that she didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t just forget what happened. How am I supposed to trust you now? How am I supposed to believe anything you say to me?”

“I don’t know. If this was one of those books you read, you would send me on a quest, or out to fight the enemy, or solve a riddle. I don’t know of any dragons that need slaying, though.”

She smiled. Their love for old books had led them to spend several afternoons puttering around used bookshops, pulling old favorites off of the shelves and reading bits and pieces to each other. She had loved listening to him read aloud, especially when he would do voices. It was like having her own personal movie theater. Her library at home had grown by a few dozen volumes that had been acquired on those outings, including several that Ben had gifted her.  He had discovered her love for fairy tales both old and modern in those afternoons, a love that underlay her thesis comparing the use of the undying king in myth cycles across cultures. She had apologized for nattering on about books the night they had met and he had just laughed, promising that it was a topic he never tired of discussing. So far he had been true to that word.

“I need time. I need time to think about what you’ve said, and about what I’m feeling. I can’t just,” she paused, frustrated with her inability to think of the word she wanted, or any word at all for that matter. It was just too much.

“I know. You always take time to process things, and the bigger the risk to your heart, the longer it takes you. And you hate doing it out loud. You’ll think about it for a while until you figure out the next step you want to take.”

She looked at him, startled. “How do you know that?”

“I study people for a living, and not just as Sherlock.” The grin she hadn’t seen all evening appeared on his face, and she laughed.

“Okay, so, I’m going to go now.” She fished a few bills out of her wallet and left them on the table. She closed the ring box and pushed it back towards him across the table. “You keep this. And I’ll call when I’m ready to talk again, okay?”

He nodded. She smiled and picked up her bag from the floor, slinging it over her chest messenger bag style. She picked up her helmet and stood awkwardly for a moment as she looked at him before finally saying, “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Ben. But I want to. That’s all I can give you right now.”

He smiled at her words, standing to face her. “That’s all I can ask for.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. Her eyes were sad as she said goodbye and then turned her back on him.

The ride home slipped by unnoticed as her mind raced over everything he had said. He was in love with her! Him, the big star, wanting to marry her, the grad student. It sounded like a bad romantic comedy, complete with meet cute and villainous ex-girlfriend. Of course, if this was a rom-com, then there should be an obvious happy ending looking her in the face, and she couldn’t see one.

She dumped her helmet and bag on the floor inside the front door, too wrapped up in her thoughts to care about the clutter. She headed down the hall to the kitchen but instead walked through the arched entry to her combination library and home office, flopping down on the sofa in the dim light. The room was redolent with memories of Ben despite the short time they had known each other. This was typically where they had hung out when he came over to her house. She had fallen asleep on him one evening on this sofa. She had been resting against him as he read Keats to her, his long legs stretched out resting on the coffee table. She had loved listening to his voice and feeling it vibrate in his chest at the same time. The soothing sound combined with the long and stressful meeting she had endured with her thesis advisor that afternoon had caused her to nod off. She had awoken an hour later to Ben’s smile. He hadn’t minded acting as her pillow as he read, and she had spent several evenings after that resting quietly against him as she read literary criticism and scholarly articles.

As she reminisced, she realized how quickly Ben had become an almost daily part of her life. She couldn’t decide if that was how she had gotten into this trouble in the first place, or a sign from her sub-conscious telling her that she really could trust him in the whole. She turned on the lamp and the soft glow of the light reflected off the gilt embossing on the hardcopy of Chaucer’s _Canterbury Tales_ sitting on the table below it. Ben had bought this beautiful old edition for her on one of their outings. She leafed through it, her eyes skimming over the elaborate illustrations and dropped initials. One drawing in particular caught her eye and she got a sudden idea.

She smiled and fished her mobile out of the pocket of her coat.

“Lia? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you this soon.”

“I have an idea.”


	3. Call and Answer - Barenaked Ladies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not familiar with the song for this chapter: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3AmY5HXzgA

 

It had been six weeks. Six weeks of tossing and turning. Six weeks of second-guessing herself. Six weeks since the night she had called Ben and said, “I have an idea.” He had hated it, but had reluctantly agreed that if this was what she needed he would do it. And now, six weeks later, he had kept his word.

Lia was watching the red carpet for the BAFTAs on the telly in the sitting room, having largely abandoned the library in Ben’s absence. A small voice in her head kept reminding her that if she hadn’t insisted on this scheme, she would be there with him, and a slightly louder voice was yelling at her to turn it off before she gave in and called him, not that he would have his mobile with him in his tuxedo, she reminded herself.

She felt this challenge had to be at least as hard on her as it was on him. It had seemed genius at the time. The drawings of “The Knight’s Tale” had made her think of the fight between Jocelyn and William Thatcher in the movie  _A Knight’s Tale_  when she had proposed that he deliberately lose to show he loved her. When she explained this to Ben, he had asked what he was supposed to lose.

“You don’t have to lose anything,” she had replied, “but I want you to show me that what I want is more important than what you want. You told me in that note that you just wanted to provide me closure, but then you asked me to marry you. You are trying to make things right in a way that means you don’t lose anything you want which doesn’t seem like a very sincere apology.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked, still confused.

“I want you to leave me alone for two months.” This comment had been greeted with silence. She had finally said, “Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m just trying to figure out what to say to your proposal.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you get much of a say in this. Flowers and jewelry are easy. Actually sacrificing for someone is difficult. You cheated on me knowing you were going to take me home that night. I need to see if you can actually stay faithful without hope of an immediate reward. I don’t want to punish you, but I,” she said.

He interrupted. “No, I understand. You need to know that you can trust me to put your needs above my own.”

“Right.”

“If that’s what it takes, that’s what I’ll do.” He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he was tentative. “I know I have no right to ask this, but will you be dating during the time we’re apart?”

“I don’t know. There’s nobody that I’m interested in right now.” She paused, and then continued, her voice softer. “Besides you, I mean. Nobody else.”

He sighed, resigned to this fate he had brought on himself. “I said I would wait for you, and I will. So, I’ll stay true to you and call you in two months. But if you need anything, anything at all from me in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to call me. I will do anything for you.” That was the last she had heard from him. There had been times in the last six weeks she had wanted to call him and wallow in his aged cognac and cigar smoke voice, like when her thesis prospectus had been rejected as too unoriginal. Her chair had given her the summer to come up with a new prospectus, and she had no idea what she was going to do. Recently she had started watching videos of Ben on the internet just to remember his voice.

Her attention was brought back to the red carpet as she heard the announcer say, “I’m standing here with the world famous Benedict Cumberbatch.” He looked beautiful in his tuxedo with long tie. Of course, he usually looked beautiful. It was nice to hear his voice, though she thought he seemed a bit subdued. She’d watched enough videos of his red carpet appearances to know he usually was much more ebullient than he was tonight. He was a consummate gentleman, and he loved interacting with his fans, but as she continued watching him talk about Sherlock and Star Trek, she noticed his smile never quite reached his eyes.

“Benedict, you are famous for remarking that your biggest failure is not being a father. You attended The Prince’s Charity gala a few weeks ago with a new girlfriend. Is there news on that front?” She watched Ben blink in what looked like disbelief as his partial smile fell. She wondered if he was going to just walk off. If she had been in his shoes she would have, though she probably would have fed the interviewer his mike first.

“We’re on a break, which is entirely my fault, I’m afraid.”

Amelia held her breath waiting for the follow up question. Would the interviewer drop it? Would he attribute the break to his shooting schedule and the demands that placed on a relationship? Or would he assume something more sinister?

“I’m sure relationships have to be difficult when you’re as in demand as you are,” the interviewer sympathized.

Amelia sighed in relief. He’d gotten an out. Ben didn’t deserve to have his public image impugned because of his mistake. Ben nodded at the interviewer and then said, “Though in this case, it wasn’t my shooting schedule, it was my own stupidity.” He looked directly into the camera. “Hopefully she’ll see it in her heart to forgive me some day.”  

Amelia stared at the television. It was like he was looking directly at her. The interviewer made consoling noises about how no woman could resist Ben’s charms for long, thanked him, and Ben continued walking down the gauntlet of cameras and interviewers. She was shocked that Ben had apologized on national television. Speculation about what he had done was going to be all over the internet and papers. The thought of it made her cringe. She was fiercely happy that she had told so few people that they had dated, though there were a whole lot of people at the charity gala who had seen them together, not to mention photos.

Amelia got up and checked the front door to make sure it was locked and then checked the curtains at the front of the house to make sure they were closed. If things got out of hand she would call and get a gate installed, but she hoped that she was obscure enough to be left alone. She thought about going on the internet to see what people were saying already, but knew that that way laid only madness. She’d made the mistake of surfing the internet the first time photos of the two of them holding hands in public had been posted and had vowed never again.

Another thought hit her,  _I wonder if my parents are watching this_. They had been sad to hear that she and Ben were no longer dating, but she hadn’t told them why. Her mother would be smart enough to put two and two together and know that Ben was talking about her. Oh well, she would cross that road when she came to it. Her mind was spinning, and she knew she was letting it churn so as to not actually think about the enormity of what Ben had done, putting himself in the media spotlight to make sure that she knew he was sorry. He could have said no comment. He could have taken the out the interviewer gave him. But he asked for her forgiveness on national television. Was this just another big gesture on his part, or did him embarrassing himself in front of the world count as true humility, she wondered.

She watched the rest of the BAFTAs, mulling over if she should contact Ben. Part of her desperately wanted to, but part of her felt like she should just wait out the next two weeks and let things go according to plan. She was still considering what to do when the awards show was over. She had decided she would sleep on it – he would be at after parties until the wee hours if stories were to be believed – when she heard a knock on the door. Wondering if the press assault was starting, she checked the screen of the intercom and was startled to see two police officers standing there. She pressed the button to talk.

“Can I help you?”

“Can we talk to Amelia Stafford please?”

“This is her.”

“Can we come in?”

“Can I see your badges please?”

Both men held their badges up to the camera. They looked legitimate.

Amelia opened the door. “Is there something wrong?”

“Can we come in, please?”

“Just tell me what’s going on.” She was nervous about strangers, even if they were police officers, being in her house when she was there alone.

“Are you the daughter of Richard and Angela Stafford?”

“Yes, has something happened to them?” The panic that had been growing in her stomach since she saw the officers standing on her step in the darkness was laced through her voice.

“We’re sorry to tell you this, but your parents were killed in an automobile accident earlier this evening.”

His voice faded as the world spun around her. A scream she didn’t recognize as human hung in the air. Part of her realized it must be her making that sound but she had no control over it. The younger officer caught her as she collapsed and set her down on the chair in the entryway.

“Are you here by yourself?” The young officer was squatting in front of her. He asked a few more times before the words penetrated the jagged pain that had hijacked her senses. She managed to nod slowly, realizing that he expected a response.

“Is there someone we can call for you?”

Amelia slowly went through her list of family and friends. She was an only child. Her parents’ siblings all lived at least three hours away, and would be in no condition to drive once they were told. She tried to squash the thought that she would probably have to be the one to tell them. Her friends from graduate school had all scattered at the end of term a week ago. She took her mobile out of the pocket of her hoodie and pressed a single button. She wasn’t sure if he even had his with him, but she couldn’t think of anyone else to call.

“Lia! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a few more weeks.” He sounded hopeful and she felt horrible for what she was about to do to him.

“Hi, Ben.” Her voice cracked on a sob and she just kept crying.

“Lia, are you hurt? Where are you? What’s going on?” She heard him shushing the people around him.

“My pare-,” she couldn’t finish the word she was sobbing so hard, the loud, despairing sobs of someone who has lost part of their own soul. The officer took the phone from her shaking hand.

“This is Officer Branson with the Metropolitan Police Service. With whom am I speaking?”

There was a pause. Amelia thought he must have used his full name because the officer’s eyebrows rose in recognition.

“Yes, Mister Cumberbatch, I’m sorry to inform you of this, but Miss Stafford’s parents were killed in an auto accident earlier this evening,” he said. “She’s currently alone,” he continued, and must have been cut off because after a short pause he said, “Yes, sir. Very well, sir.”

He ended the call and handed the device back to Amelia. “He’s on his way.”


	4. Lullaby - Peter Breinholt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't familiar with the song, listen here: http://grooveshark.com/s/Lullaby/3b6WqN?src=5  
> I really do recommend listening to the music as you read. It adds a nice layer.

 

[ ](http://grooveshark.com/s/Lullaby/3b6WqN?src=5)

Amelia woke the next morning with an abominable headache. She had no idea how long she had cried in Ben’s arms before she had fallen asleep. She had woken to him carrying her up the stairs. “What are you doing?” Her voice had been fuzzy with tiredness.

“Just tucking you into bed,” was the sonorous response in the dim light coming in from the windows. He had placed her on her bed – luckily she never made it so the blankets were all at the foot – and when he let go of her to reach for the duvet, she grabbed his wrist.

“Please, I don’t want to be alone.”

He had stretched out next to her and she had cuddled in to his side, the reassuring warmth of another human life keeping her from feeling totally alone in darkness. She had fallen asleep again with the comforting sound of his heartbeat and his breath keeping her company. Even before she opened her eyes she had known he was gone. The angle of the mattress, the cool air, the quiet in the room all testified that he was no longer next to her.

She forced herself out of bed and trudged into the en-suite.  She stood under the hot water until it ran out, toweled off, put her robe on and walked down the stairs in search of tea. The house felt different, marked with new memories from the night before that tainted the atmosphere. The echo of her scream still hung in the air. The entry at the bottom of the stairs held the ghosts of police officers, the faintest reverberation of the word ‘accident’, the grief-stained chair she had collapsed on. She stopped and stared at it, before picking it up, opening the door and placing it out on the front step. She would never be able to sit on it again.

She shut the front door and leaned her forehead against it, blinking rapidly, not willing to start crying already.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

She whirled around and Ben was standing there with cup of tea in his hand. She clutched at the collar of her robe. “I…I thought you left.”

“I never know what to do in a crisis, but I know how to make tea.” He smiled at her crookedly as he handed her the teacup.

“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed against his as she took the cup from him. “I should probably go get dressed.” She was very aware of her nakedness under her robe.

Ben looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. “I probably should, too.” She realized he was still wearing his clothes from last night, rumpled from being slept in, and looked as tired as she felt.

“Oh, of course. Thank you. Thank you for coming when I called. You didn’t have to do that.” She couldn’t look him in the eye.

“You needed me so I came.”  It was said so simply. She looked up and found him gazing at her with a slightly guilty expression. “I, um, may have overstepped my bounds, but I hired you an assistant for the next few weeks.”

Her nose wrinkled in confusion. “An assistant?”

“I just thought it might be nice to have someone who could help you make arrangements for the next few weeks. There must be a lot you’ll have to do since you’re an only child from a wealthy family,” he explained, but she interrupted.

“Wait, how do you know how much money my family has?”

He looked around. “You don’t afford a house like this on a graduate student income,” he commented, arching an eyebrow sardonically.

She blushed slightly. “Oh, of course.”

“I’m off today, but I am filming for the rest of the week. I didn’t want to leave you to funeral planning and estate affairs by yourself, and it seemed to me that if you had had anyone else to call last night, you would have.”

“That’s not true,” she protested.

“Isn’t it?” His tone was neutral, but his gaze was fixed on hers. She looked away. “I’ll be back in a few hours. She’s supposed to stop by at two. If you don’t want to use her, you don’t have to, but she’ll be there if you need her.”

“Really, Ben, this is too much.”

“Please, let me do this for you?” he asked her. “I’ll feel better knowing you don’t have to face this by yourself when I’m not here.”

She hesitated and then spoke. “Do you plan on being here a lot?” She gnawed at her bottom lip nervously.

“As much as you’ll let me.” He looked down at the floor and then back up at her. “I guess I assumed that,” his normally flawless voice broke. “Do you want me to go?”

“No! It’s just…our timing is horrible. Never mind, we can talk about this later.

“Please, Lia, tell me what you’re thinking.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I heard you on the red carpet last night and then I called and you sounded so hopeful, and then I started bawling, and then I asked you to hold me while I slept, and I just don’t know if you think that we’re back together or if I’ve forgiven you or what your expectations are and I don’t know how to tr…”

He took her face between his hands and her voice trailed off. “I’m here as your friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Our romantic relationship or lack thereof is something we can deal with at some future point. Right now, just let me help you deal with this, okay?” He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

She nodded. He kissed her platonically on the forehead and let go of her face.

“Okay. Now, I’m going to go shower and change, and you’re going to drink your tea before it gets any colder, and I’ll be back in a few hours. Alright?”

She nodded again. He picked up his suit coat and tie from where he had draped them over the bannister and left. She sagged against the door for a minute and then took her tea into the library. She sat in the big overstuffed chair, reluctant to sit on the sofa where Ben had held her for so long last night. She thought about Ben’s generous, if somewhat presumptuous, hiring of an assistant for her. Her mother would have been so pleased, but this was one of the things she had been avoiding about her parents’ lifestyle.

Amelia flashed through the images of all the staff that had worked in her parents’ house over the years. The nanny that had read her fairytales before her naps, the maid that had snuck her treats when her parents had grounded her for some infraction or other, the gardener that had let her drive the riding mower and then had covered for her when she had mown down a rose bush. It’s not that her parents hadn’t loved her, because she knew they did…had, rather. It was that they had inhabited a world of artfully crafted perfection and she hadn’t really fit. She had tried. Heaven’s knew she had tried, but her awkward teenage phase had lasted well into her years at university. It was only in the last few years that she had felt like her parents had approved of her, when her skin calmed down and the coltish limbs became refined lankiness. Her mom had still adjusted her hair in some manner, no matter how miniscule, every time she had come home to visit.

Home to visit. The tears started again at the thought. It had been going home to visit that had gotten her dragged along to the Christmas party where she had met Ben. Her mother’s awkward, “Benedict, let me introduce you to my daughter. She thought you were fantastic in _Frankenstein,”_ had caused a distinct blush in her cheeks and a cool professional smile on Ben’s face. It had melted into a much more genuine one when she had commented on the difference between his performance and the monster in the book. Dating Ben had been the first thing she had done in her life that her mother had wholeheartedly approved of and she had died thinking that her daughter had failed at that, too.

The next few hours passed as she made a list of things that needed to get done. The length was overwhelming and she was increasingly grateful for Ben’s thoughtfulness and generosity. She heard her phone buzzing regularly and didn’t even bother answering it, knowing that she could have her assistant deal with all the calls when she got there.

She heard the doorbell and went to go let Ben in. She opened the front door and was slightly surprised to see a tall unfamiliar man. “Can I help you?”

“Hello, I’m Jack Hargrave. If you’re Ms. Stafford, I am your new assistant.” 


	5. Jealousy by Natalie Merchant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy by Natalie Merchant - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PjLkB7BlpA

 

_Gif made by the lovely[Sherlockspeare](http://sherlockspeare.tumblr.com/)_

[Jealousy](http://grooveshark.com/s/Jealousy/4dE6Gl?src=5) - Natalie Merchant

 

Amelia blinked in surprise. Not only was he not a she, he was a handsome he. Tall, probably even taller than Ben, but with broad shoulders and a square jaw with the barest hint of dark stubble that was a permanent feature on men with hair that dark.  “Oh, of course. Come in. Can I take your coat?”

He smiled. “No need. That’s my job. Just show me where to hang it.”

She pointed him to the closet and watched as he hung up his jacket. “I’m sorry, but…I thought you were going to be female.”

Jack laughed, a rich sound like melted butter. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that. There aren’t many men who make a career of being a personal assistant, but I enjoy it. I haven’t been doing this professionally for very long which is why I’m still working on a temporary basis, but informally I’ve been doing this for years.”

“What did you do before?”

“Stock broker.” That explained the very expensive suit he was wearing.

“Well, we all have our sins to repent of,” she quipped.

He laughed again, the smile lighting up his face. Maybe this won’t be as awkward as I had expected, she thought.

They set up shop at the dining room table. Jack opened his bag and pulled out a laptop. “First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Second, I’m here to do whatever you want.  Feel free to just give me lists of whatever you need done. I’m not sure whether or not you’ve had an assistant before, but I can do just about anything that doesn’t involve breaking the law, including cook. So just start giving me orders.” He rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow.

“Well first off, how much do you know about what happened?”

“Just that your parents died in an accident last night.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m an only child. I know they have a trust or estate or something set up, but I really don’t know the details. So first thing will be to call Uncle Randy – well, he’s not really my uncle, but he’s my dad’s best friend – and if he hasn’t heard, break the news and then find out the details of what’s going on. If my parents had funeral arrangements planned, he would be the one who would know. And then we need to deal with my phone. As of last count,” she looked at her mobile, “23 missed calls, 19 voice mails, and 72 text messages.” She sighed.

“Do you mind if I mirror your phone?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” she admitted, somewhat embarrassed.

“It gives me access to your messages and contacts, while still letting you keep your phone.”

“That sounds fine.”

He took her mobile and plugged it into his laptop, and then plugged another mobile in as well. Less than a minute later she had her phone back.

“I’ll start going through messages while you are on the phone with your uncle, and I set up an email address, ameliastaffordestate at gmail for anything pertaining to arrangements or that I need to look at, and here’s my mobile number if you want people to call me.” He handed her a business card.

Amelia felt simultaneously overwhelmed and relieved. “Thank you, Jack. This is going to be so much easier because you’re here.”

He smiled and nodded. “That’s my job.”

She took her mobile and went into the library to call Uncle Randy. He hadn’t heard the news, and she broke down crying with him on the phone. Jack came in and quietly placed a tray with a pot of tea, cup and saucer and some biscuits on the table. He poured her a cup and left again only to return a minute later with a box of tissues. She smiled up at him and took one. He put the box on the table and quietly left.

Several minutes later he came back in and held up a note pad on which he written in large letters, “Ben texted – sorry for running late, should I bring food?” She took the pen from him and scrawled Thai for three. He left as silently as he entered.

Amelia finally finished talking to her Uncle Randy and agreed to set up a time to come in and go over the will. She walked back to the dining room and sat down at the table with Jack. “He’s going to have his secretary email you the file with the funeral arrangements. Apparently, my parents completely planned the funeral, so we just need to coordinate with the church about a date. They already picked out their coffins and everything.” She took a deep sigh, rubbing at her eyes. “How goes my phone?”

“Well, do you want Emily Post levels of etiquette or more relaxed?”

“That bad?” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s go with Emily Post. It’s what my mother would want.”

“Okay, so let’s sort these out into piles.”

They were sorting out who needed return messages, which ones Jack could handle, which ones Amelia would have to deal with, and who could be ignored when the doorbell sounded. Amelia started to stand, but Jack said, “Let me get that.”

She sunk back gratefully into her chair. He came back a minute later with an arrangement of lilies. He brought them over and she took the card. “From one of my mother’s friends,” she said quietly after a minute. Lilies were her mother’s favorites. Her mother had even called her Amalilly when she had been little. She started a thank you card pile. “Can you put those in the living room? They are too heavily fragranced for a dining room.” She pointed him the way when the door rang again. “I’ll get this one,” she called as he took the flowers away.

She opened the door to Ben holding bags of food. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower. She smiled to see him. “Is that you who smells so delicious or the food?” He grinned. “Both.”

“Well, come in. I’m starving.”

They walked into the dining room and Ben stopped when he saw Jack sitting at the table. “Ben, this is my wonderful assistant Jack. Jack, this is my friend Ben.”

She could have sworn Ben visually stiffened when she referred to him as her friend. Jack stood and took the bags of food from Ben. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Likewise.” Jack took the food into the kitchen. “He’s a man,” Ben said as soon as Jack was out of earshot.

“No shit, Sherlock.” The annoyed look on Ben’s face made Amelia break out in giggles. Ben looked at her in exasperation which just made her laugh harder. It bordered on hysteria, and she knew it, but couldn’t stop. The emotional release was too strong, and as the tears of laughter in her eyes turned to tears of pain on her cheeks, Ben took her in his arms and held her against his chest, one hand soothingly stroking her back. Jack came back into the dining room and Ben’s eyes met his over Amelia’s head. It was the subtlest of shifts of expression, a slightly raised eyebrow, the angle of the chin shifting by a scant degree, but Jack recognized the claim that Ben was staking and walked back into the kitchen.

Ben continued whispering soothing noises into Lia’s hair, his rubbing slow circles across her back.   
“Let’s go sit down,” he murmured, and took her hand, leading her down the hall to the library. He sat on the sofa and pulled her down onto his lap. Cradled in his arms, she rested her head on his shoulder. He sang to her softly, a lullaby he remembered from his childhood. The quiet rumble of his voice worked his soothing magic and she slowly stopped crying. Jack came in with a tray – when did he remove the tray from earlier, she wondered – with plates of food for her and Ben.

“Come eat with us,” she told him. She felt Ben’s fingers tighten slightly on her arm.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate, Ms. Stafford,” he responded.

She snorted. “Please, call me Amelia. I can’t be that much older than you. And you’re not going to sit in the other room like a servant. Please, come eat with us. We want you to.”  She saw Jack’s eyes flick to Ben’s and then back to hers.

“If you’re sure,” he said.

“Of course, I’m sure. You’re going to be around all the time so you should get used to me crying.”

“Okay, then.”

He left to go get himself a plate, and Amelia turned to Ben. “What was that about?”

“What?”

She gave him the stink-eye. “You know what. Why are you not being your normal charming self with Jack?”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looked at her with a completely innocent expression on face, which made her disbelieve him. He never looked that innocent when he was looking at her.

Jack walked back in and Amelia dropped the topic. She slid off Ben’s lap and handed him one of the plates from the tray and then took her own, curling up on the opposite end of the couch from Ben as Jack sat in the overstuffed chair. They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes until Ben said, “So, Jack, tell us about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How long have you been doing this?” Ben asked.

“Not very long. About six months full time.”

“What made you change?”

“I like helping people. I actually enjoy it. I’m good at it. The same reason most people choose a career, I would assume,” he replied. Amelia wondered if she was imagining the slightly acerbic note to his voice. She jumped in before Ben could ask another question. “So, what do you do when you’re not running peoples’ lives for them?”

“I’m getting back into horseback riding, now that I have more time. I used to compete in dressage when I was younger.”

“Oh, how fun!” Amelia exclaimed. “I used to ride when I was younger. I didn’t really love the competitions – always got a knot in my stomach in front of all those other people – but I loved riding. There’s nothing like the feel of moving together with another creature like that. It’s just exhilarating.” She smiled and reached for her drink as she added, “I still have my riding crop.” She didn’t notice the similar slightly stunned looks that passed across both men’s faces at the offhanded remark.

“Well,” Jake said, recovering just the slightest bit faster than Ben, “if you ever want to go riding, when you’re up for it, of course, just let me know. I have a few horses that could always use some exercise.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I should go get back to work. The email from your uncle’s secretary just arrived.” He held up his mobile that had buzzed a moment earlier. “Would you like me to clear your dishes for you?”

“Yes, please.” Ben held his plate out to Jake.

“Thank you,” Amelia said as she handed her plate to him. “I know you’ve only been here a few hours so far, but it’s really been nice having you here to help out.”

“I’m glad.” He smiled at her and then left the room.

Ben looked at her, a trace of frustration showing in his expressive features.

“What?”

“You just agreed to go out on a date with him.”

Her face crinkled in disbelief. “No, I didn’t.”

Ben pitched his voice in a perfect imitation of Jake. “If you ever want to go riding…”

Amelia rolled her eyes at him and stood up from the sofa, feeling the need to put some distance between her and Ben. “He was just being nice.”

“He was hitting on you.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re crazy. He was just being nice to his boss.”

“He was flirting. And you were flirting back.”

“I was doing no such thing!”

“‘I still have my riding crop’?” His voice now mimicked hers. “You might have just as well said that you want to ride him and spank his ass.”

Her jaw dropped as heat rose in her cheeks. “I was just making conversation!”

“That’s not what it sounded like from here.”

“Well, maybe you’re projecting on to me the guilt you feel for snogging your ex-girlfriend!”

Ben lunged to his feet. “Anna, that’s not true!”

Amelia paused for a long moment, her jaw clinching as she fought for control of her temper. “What,” she spat the word like venom from an asp, “did you just call me?”

“…Amelia?”

“No, you called me Anna.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re obviously not over her, so why don’t you go ask her to marry you,” she hissed as she bolted past him and up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom behind her.

Ben went after her, meeting Jake standing in the hall. “I’ll come back later,” he said, having overheard the end of the conversation and then watching Amelia storm past him like he wasn’t even there. Ben nodded grimly and went up the stairs as Jake retreated back into the dining room. Ben knocked on Amelia’s bedroom door. “Go away!”

“Amelia, please, can I come in?”

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately,” she yelled through the door, her voice roughened by tears. He tried the door and it wasn’t locked. He opened it warily, only to see her flung face-first across her bed.  He sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry. I know I have no claim on you, no right to criticize what you’re doing. And I’m overreacting because I know he’s going to get to spend so much time with you and I can’t. We’re in studio tomorrow, and then in Cardiff for the rest of the week. And I’m going to miss you, and I’ve hired a handsome man to cater to your every whim.”

She rolled over slowly and looked at him with surprise in her eyes. “You’re jealous? Of him?”

“Maybe,” he admitted ruefully.

“Why on earth would you be jealous of him? You’re a world famous actor and he’s working as a temp.”

“Because he’s better looking than I am, not to mention he has a normal name,” he said quietly. There was an undertone of old hurts and newer fears.

“You’re right,” she replied, and Ben looked like he’d been punched in the gut. “He’s traditionally handsome. I’m sure lots of girls swoon over him, but you’ve forgotten something.”

“What’s that?”

“I think you’re beautiful. I know you don’t believe it, but you have a face that artists adore. I see photos of you that look like you’ve been painted by Raphael or carved out of marble by Michelangelo.” She looked up at him from her position prone on the bed. She was mesmerized by his eyes, the galaxic depth of color. “I could spend the rest of my life just looking at your face and never get bored. And getting to touch it,” she reached out a hand and traced a finger along the line of his cheekbone and down his jaw, “is something I have missed very much while you’ve been away.”

She traced the line of his throat until she reached the collar of his shirt. Her hand closed around the fabric and she tugged him down towards her, until his face was just above hers. “And one of these days, you’re going to hear how beautiful your name sounds when I cry it out while you’re buried deep inside me.”

Ben blinked in surprise, his breath suddenly ragged. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Please,” she whispered.

His full lips brushed against hers drawing forth a soft, shuddering sigh. She had missed the feel of his kisses for so long. The kiss was gentle, lips moving slowly against each other almost as if it were the first kiss between the two of them. He pressed his lips a little harder against hers and she slid her hand from the front of his shirt up to his neck, his skin warm under her hand. The tips of her fingers brushed against his hair. His lips moved again, first against her upper lip, then against the bottom one. He balanced his weight on his left hand as he raised his right hand to her face, cupping her cheek. “My Lia,” he whispered against her lips.

“Yes, yours,” she murmured back.

**_Jack_ **

 


	6. There is Love - Fort Atlantic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these two are running in an entirely different direction that I had planned. 
> 
> There is Love by Fort Atlantic - http://youtu.be/qJ4npeqZ3C8

 

Ben brushed his lips against hers one more time and then kissed his way to her jaw line. He placed his full lips softly against her delicate skin as she tilted her head slowly to the side. He licked and nipped and kissed his way up to her ear. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he whispered softly, his breath teasingly hot against her face.

She pushed against his chest as she moved her head away from him. “It would help me forgive you if you stopped calling me Anna.”

“It just slipped. You said ex-girlfriend and the next word out of my mouth was her name.” There was a long pause. He sat up and when he spoke again his voice was softer. “We fought a lot at the end. You and I have never really fought before. Maybe it’s just muscle memory.” He shook his head regretfully.

Amelia sat up and scooted over to him. They sat there together on the edge of the bed, her thigh touching his. She reached over and took one of his hands in hers. “I have missed you the last six weeks. A lot. More than I thought I would, honestly. I missed just being with you, just your presence. I’ve lived by myself for a few years now, but I never felt lonely until the last six weeks.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, and he leaned over and kissed the top of her head softly. She continued talking, her voice so soft it was as if she were talking to herself rather than him. “And now my parents are gone and it just adds to the loneliness. It’s not like we had this amazing loving relationship, but I thought they would be there for me for a lot longer. I mean, they aren’t going to see me get my Ph.D. Or get married. Or know their grandkids.” Her voice broke on the last word and Ben felt a tear drop from her face onto his sleeve.

“And I’m worried that I should be harder on you, that I’m just letting you back in because I’m too weak to get through this by myself, and that I’ll hate myself in the future for caving in now, and letting you back in when you can’t even remember my name when we fight and I wonder if I’m just a replacement for her, because we have the same kind of build and coloring, and —”

Ben quickly turned towards her. “You are not a replacement for her,” he said with an intensity she didn’t remember hearing from him before. “You are not a replacement for anyone.” She couldn’t cope with the emotions his gaze conveyed and looked away from him. “Amelia, look at me.” His voice was gentle. “You are what I have been looking for ever since I realized girls weren’t gross but rather fascinating and beguiling creatures.” That elicited a small smile. “I can’t bring back your parents, but you never have to be lonely again. I will  _always_  be here for you.”

“Promise me?” The tears were welling up in her eyes again.

“I promise.”

“You are such a good friend.”

“Is that all I am?”

“No, but I don’t know what to call you. I know you’re my friend. I know that you make me feel things, both emotionally and physically that no one else has.” He smiled at the blush that arose in her cheeks. “I don’t kiss just anyone in my bed, you know.” A cheeky smile accompanied her comment.

“I very much enjoyed kissing you in your bed. But then, I enjoy kissing you anytime or any place.” His voice was practically a purr.

“Do you mean place geographically or biologically?” Notes of laughter danced in her words.

“Both.” His mouth quirked up in a charming smile.

She leaned in so her face was closer to his. “Where have you enjoyed kissing me most?”

“Geographically or biologically?” There was laughter but also something hotter in his voice.

“Both.”

His grin was practically devilish. “Ooooh, difficult choices. Geographically, at Martin’s New Year’s Eve party at his home. Our first kiss. I had thought it would be awkward – the socially mandated kiss at midnight – but it wasn’t. It was perfect, and the feel of your lips against mine was exhilarating and addictive. And the slightly dazed look in your eyes, when you finally opened them,” he chuckled softly, “was beautiful. It let me know you felt the same way.”

“You are an amazing kisser.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, soft pressure for a long moment.

“Thank you. As for biologically, there is this spot where your neck meets your shoulder, but slightly to the back, that just makes you melt when I kiss it.”

“Show me?”

“Turn around.”

She rotated so her back was towards him. He carefully brushed her long waves to the side, exposing the skin of her neck. Gently he pressed his lips to the spot he had described.

She responded with a soft sigh of delight and her entire body relaxed. “If I remember right, this is your favorite way to distract me when I’m browsing bookshelves.”

“I had to find some way to compete or you would never pay attention to me,” he murmured against her skin.

“You are very good at being distracting.” She leaned back against him.

“And you are not weak.” He wrapped his arms around her, calm and comforting. “Letting someone help you doesn’t make you weak.”

“Of course you would say that.” She rolled her eyes.

“Amelia, both your parents died unexpectedly yesterday. Frankly, I’m amazed you got out of bed, not to mention showered and dressed.”

“Maybe I’m just in denial,” she shot back. “Speaking of which, I should go ask Jack what the email said.” She stood up. Ben grabbed at her hand but she pulled free and left the room. Ben sighed and followed after her.

Amelia walked into the dining room where Jack was sitting working at the table. He stood as she entered, but she waved him to sit down. She plopped down into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Where are we at?”

“Your parents have the whole funeral planned. I contacted the pastor at the church. He said that he could do the service either Friday or Saturday of this week, or any day next week, except Sunday of course.”

She looked up at Ben who was standing behind her, a hand on her shoulder. “What is your shooting schedule like?”

“We shoot all week in Cardiff. I am off at the weekend, though.”

She turned back to Jack. “Let’s plan on Saturday. Early afternoon. Can I look at the plans?”

He pulled up a document on his laptop and then turned it around so she could see the screen. She silently scrolled through the file. She got to the end. “Um, I’m going to have to go up to Birmingham sometime this week. I have to pick out clothes for them.” She paused. “Jack, can you please call the mortuary…are they at the mortuary? Can you find my parents’ bodies and find out what I need to do? Do I need to come identify them? And then find out when they need clothes by. I don’t know how many trips to Birmingham I feel like dealing with in the next few weeks.” She got up and walked from the room.

Ben brought her a cup of tea in the library. Her head was resting on her knees that she had pulled up to her chest. He sat quietly by her on the couch and placed a hand on her back. He could feel that she was crying as her body shook slightly under his touch. She didn’t respond until several minutes later when Jack walked into the room. She lifted her head when he asked if she wanted him to come back.

“No, please. Tell me what you found out.” She wiped at her eyes.

“Your uncle is the executor of the estate. He identified your parents and had them released to the mortuary.  The mortuary needs clothing by Friday at one in the afternoon.”

“Okay. Call my uncle back. Ask him for some time Friday afternoon to go over the will and the estate.”

Jack left and Amelia put her head back down on her knees. “What time is your call in the morning?” Her voice was muffled.

“Eight.”

“Would you mind staying here tonight?”

“Anything you need.”

“Thank you.”

She went to her desk and rummaged through one of the drawers. She returned and handed him a small object. He looked at the key and back up at her. “It’s to the front door. That way I don’t have to get up in the morning to lock the door behind you.”

He pulled her down onto the sofa next to him. “And when do you want me to give this back to you?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know. But right now, I need you in my life, and I don’t want to make that any more difficult for you or for me than necessary. And if that means giving you the key to my house so you can get in after a night shoot, then I’ll do that. I scheduled my parents’ funeral so you could be there because honestly I don’t think I could get through it without you holding my hand, and maybe that means I need you more than I am really willing to admit right now. I just know I need you and I don’t want to really have to think about it too much and things are too crazy right now and I don’t have the energy to deal with figuring it out but I came to a realization while you were away.”

“And what’s that?” he asked as he twined his long fingers through her hair.

Before she could respond Jack walked in while looking at his notepad. “I’ve scheduled you with your uncle Friday at two pm. The funeral is set for Saturday at two pm. Did you want to have a viewing either at the funeral home Friday night or before the service at the church on Saturday?” He looked up and saw the two of them cuddled on the couch. “Unless you would like me to come back later.”

“No, we were just talking.” She stood up. “No viewing. Call the car service. We’ll need a car with driver on Friday morning to take us to Birmingham. Book us a hotel for Friday and Saturday night. Then we’ll need a driver for Sunday morning to bring us back.” She turned to Ben. “Do you need any arrangements made for you?” He shook his head. “Okay. That will be everything. Why don’t you go for the evening? Work on verifying all the funeral arrangements in the morning, and then come by about noon tomorrow?”

“I will do that.”

“Here’s a key to my house,” she handed him the key and told him the security code for the alarm, “because amongst all this chaos I have to rewrite my prospectus so I won’t always be here because I’ll be haunting the library. Feel free to deal with any messages on my phone that you can, and just hold any that you need to talk to me about. And feel free to wear jeans tomorrow. I’ll be lucky if I get out of my pajamas.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight.”

She turned to Ben and saw an odd look on his face, but waited to say anything until she heard Jack finish packing his bag and the door close behind him. “What?”

He held up the key in his hand. “Are you planning on giving any more of these out tonight?”

“No.”

“I just thought this meant something more than it apparently does,” he replied, biting his bottom lip in irritation.

“Ben, he’s my assistant. You hired him to be here when you can’t. Why are you so upset that I’m actually using the incredibly thoughtful gift you gave me?”

He was silent.

“You told me you wanted to be here for me as a friend, and that we could leave the romantic stuff out of the equation until after I got through this next little bit. Is that just another line? You keep telling me I can take the time I need and then you keep pushing me to make a commitment.”

“Well, you keep telling me that you need more time to make a decision and then you pull me on top of you on your bed and tell me that you’re going to cry my name while I’m buried inside of you. Maybe I’m not the only one sending off mixed signals here.” She could hear the irritation in his voice.

“So, what are you saying? That I’m being a tease?”

He took a deep breath and let it out, his cheeks puffing with the air. “Amelia, we were dating for almost three months before I screwed things up. We never had sex. And I never complained about it, because I’m not a prat who thinks I’m entitled to your body. I loved kissing you and making out with you and the slow burn that you had me on.  There were nights that I would go home aching from how much I wanted to make love to you, but I never pushed you because you were very clear from the beginning that you didn’t want to rush into anything and that you weren’t someone who did casual sex and that you didn’t want to have sex with someone that you couldn’t see yourself being in a relationship with. And now you explicitly don’t want a relationship, but seem well on your way to resuming the level of sexual contact we had before, and as much as I would physically enjoy that, I’m not going to let you do something in your grief that you might regret in the future.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“I don’t want us to,” he started, but then he stopped and sighed deeply. “If your parents hadn’t died, would we even be talking right now?”

“I saw that interview you gave on the red carpet. I wanted to call you, but I wasn’t sure if I should. I didn’t even know if you had your mobile with you. And then as I sat there and thought about it, it seemed like maybe I should make you wait it out, just to prove a point. That you can’t just be charming and romantic and expect me to stop being mad. But I had stopped being mad. I had starting listening to audio recordings of you just to hear your voice. I probably have “Ode to a Nightingale” memorized I’ve listened to it so many times.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead wearily. “I feel like such a baby saying this, but…” She paused so long Ben wondered if she was going to start again. When she did, her voice was quiet and sad. “Do you know what my longest previous relationship was?”

Ben shook his head.

“Three months.”

Ben lifted an eyebrow.

“I know, right?” She sounded incredulous herself. “We were together longer than that before…” Again she paused. “You say it was overwhelming to realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. I’m overwhelmed with just trying to imagine a year with someone. And I know that doesn’t make sense to you. You were with Olivia for a decade. But I haven’t even,” she covered her face with her hands and slumped down onto the couch.

“You know the night that we broke up…do you remember what I was wearing?”

“The dress or what you had on underneath it?” His voice was smooth and rich as melted chocolate.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the look of desire on Ben’s face when he had seen her.

“That night is seared into my memory. Even crying and enraged, you were breathtaking.”

“Yes. Well. Do you know how long it has been for me since I have been with a man?”

Ben started putting stray comments together in his head. “I’m guessing by the way you are asking that it has been a while?”

Amelia nodded without looking at him. “Um, yeah. I had sex a couple times in high school, but neither experience was…”

“Enjoyable?” he suggested.

“Right. And college didn’t get much better. And, um, I haven’t since my second year in college.”

Ben did some quick math in his head. “That’s been several years.”

“Yes.”

“And you haven’t had sex since?”

“No.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

The pieces were quickly falling into place for Ben. “And you’re freaking out about us having sex as much as us having a relationship.”

“Yes.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

“Because you’re worried that you won’t enjoy it?” His voice was tender; this was a new conversation for them, and he was concerned about her clamming up again.

She finally looked at him. “I’ve been putting off having sex with you because sex is always where my relationships fall apart and I don’t want to lose you. I’m just not any good in bed, and —”

Ben placed a few of his long fingers against her lips to hush her. “Darling, did you ever think it’s just the men you’ve been with aren’t any good in bed? Teenage boys aren’t usually known for their…prowess.”

She smiled a little at that. “You’re saying that you could do better?” There was a bit of a twinkle in her eye for the first time he could remember.

“I’m damn well sure I can.” He was quietly confident.

“Because I can’t…” The twinkle disappeared and she stopped talking.

Ben finally prompted her. “Lia, you can tell me anything.”

“I’ve never orgasmed.” Her voice was so quiet she could barely hear it herself.

“Ever? Even by yourself?” His voice was almost as quiet as hers.

She shook her head. “I’ve tried, but I can’t. I can’t get there.” She looked defeated.

He gripped her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. He ran his hands slowly up her sides, his hands tracing over her rib cage, the sides of her breasts, across her collarbone. She felt as exposed as if she were naked under his caress. “You just need someone to worship your body the way it deserves,” his whispered words were like a prayer against her throat as he trailed his lips from her shoulder to her jaw.

“Are you volunteering?” Her voice was breathy as Ben kissed the sensitive skin under her chin.

“Yes.” The word pressed against her body.

“Right now?” she asked, little more than a whisper.

Ben reluctantly sat back. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready.”

Ben looked at her with an odd mix of restraint and desire flashing in his eyes.

“I mean it,” she insisted. “I’ve been talking myself in circles all day trying to figure out what was going on in my head, but it keeps coming back to one thing. I was going to tell you something that night, something that all this talking has made me realize is still true.

“And what’s that?” His hands were stroking down her waist to settle on her hips.

“I love you.”


	7. Feeling Good - Michael Buble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael Buble - Feeling Good
> 
> http://youtu.be/Edwsf-8F3sI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter made me change my rating from Teen to Explicit. Please note that there is smut ahead.

 

_Gif created by and used with permission from[lecumberbum](http://lecumberbum.tumblr.com/post/32007086577/someone-should-take-photoshop-away-from-me-but)._

 

“You love me?” She had seen the hopeful look in his face, but the note of fulfillment in his voice as he confirmed what he had heard resonated in her heart.

“I love you,” she repeated.

“You’ve never said that before.”

“I know.” She suddenly felt shy.

“When did you realize you loved me?” Benedict trailed his finger across her jaw, memorizing this moment in the geography of her body.

“Before we took our break,” she admitted, her voice quiet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was planning to. We were going to have sex that night. And if you didn’t decide to leave me over that disaster, I was going to tell you.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Stand up,” Ben commanded.

“What?” Confused by the sudden change of conversation, she stood self-consciously. Ben took Amelia by the hand.

“We are going to take care of this whole ‘I’m a disaster in bed’ thing right now.”

“What?” she repeated.

“Come with me.” He tugged her out of the library and then up the stairs, guided her into her bedroom and then gently closed the door behind them.

Amelia looked up at him nervously.  “What now?”

“I’m going to give you an orgasm. And then we’ll decide what to do next.” His voice was calm, but she was panicking. This was what she had dreaded, the inevitable end of her time with him.

“You make it sound so easy.” She sounded almost bitter.

Long fingers cupped her face, tilting it upwards so she had to look him in the eyes. “I’ve seen the way you respond to my touch. I’m not worried about it.” The quiet confidence in his voice lapped away at her tension. She wanted to believe him, but her experiences stood as a wall against a rising tide of hope.

“What do you want me to do?” Her voice was as shaky as her nerves.

“Just relax. Let me kiss you.” His face was close to hers, so close that she could focus either on his eyes or his lips, but not both at the same time.

 “Okay.” She was surprised to find that she could only whisper.

He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, repeating the caress until she leaned upwards into the kiss. She pressed her hands against his chest and then slid them up and around his neck. One arm remained around his shoulders while the other hand slid up and into his hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. He left one hand at the small of her back, pressing her against him, while the other hand slowly stroked up and down her back. She molded her body against his as his tongue teased open her mouth.

She touched her tongue to his and whimpered into his mouth. His lips slanted across hers with increased pressure as both of his hands slid to the hem of her shirt. He pulled the thin fabric up and they broke apart long enough to remove her shirt, his quickly following after it. She lowered her arms and trailed her hands across his chest. He’d lost weight in the last few months getting ready for filming season three, and the muscled planes of his chest were much more evident than the last time she had seen him with his shirt off.

“If I plan on sticking around, I guess I should get used to your weight fluctuating as much as your hair color, right?” There was a small smile on her face as she traced a finger down the center line of his abdomen.

“It does tend to go with the territory.”  His hands rested on her shoulders briefly while his thumbs brushed across her collarbones and then downward to the swell of her breasts. His fingers followed and he stroked the skin along the line of her bra. She shivered under the gentle touch. His fingers met and he slipped one long finger down in between her breasts. She shuddered as he stroked his finger slowly and repeatedly in between them.

His other hand reached to the clasp on her bra and easily undid the hooks. She curled her shoulders forward as his hands reached up to the straps and slid them down her arms. The heat from his gaze caused her to bite her bottom lip nervously. He had seen her breasts before a few times, but it was different this time knowing that this wasn’t where it was going to end. His hands moved from her arms to the tie of her slouchy pants. He pulled the ribbon slowly, his gaze fixed on hers. The sound of the fabric sliding against itself as the bow came undone was unimaginably loud in the quiet of her bedroom.  The tie came undone, and Ben pushed them down her hips, leaving her standing there in a pair of white cotton knickers.

Before her nervousness could overtake her, she found herself being scooped up in Ben’s arms and carried to the bed. He deposited her gently on it and then stretched out next to her. He lay on his side, his head propped up on one hand, resting his other on her stomach as he bent down to kiss her. He could feel the nervousness in her and wanted to beat the men who had taught her that she was broken, who hadn’t taken the time to love every inch of her body the way it deserved. His tongue slipped against her lips and she parted them for him, her hand sliding up into his hair. She let his curls slide through her fingers as she nipped at his tongue; she could feel him smile against her lips. Their kisses grew longer as Ben glided his hand up her ribcage and palmed one of her breasts. He kneaded it gently and slowly before starting to rub his thumb in slow circles around the peak. The little moan she breathed into his mouth made him purr with satisfaction. His hand slid to her other breast and he repeated the slow sensual touches that had her moaning again and arching up into his hand.

Ben slowly kissed down her neck and chest and flicked his tongue against the hardened peak of her breast. Her gasp was music to his ears and he had her perform an encore before laving it with the flat of his tongue. He trailed his hand down her stomach, his fingers spread wide, touching as much of her as he could. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his hand slipped over to the curve of her waist, shaping the soft skin under the pressure of his palm. He transferred his mouth to her other breast as his hand skated upwards, skimming over her rib cage, brushing the backs of his fingers against the outer curve of her breast. His mouth released her taut nipple as he framed the breast with his hand and he breathed softly against the wetness, watching it tighten even more as it cooled. He smiled lopsidedly as her body responded and bent his head to her other breast, repeating the same touch and lick and hot breath until it too was hard and pink under his touch.

He rolled slightly onto her, freeing his other hand as he kissed back up her throat to her mouth. His lips closed over hers and he drank in the little sounds she was making. He slid both of his hands from her shoulders slowly down her arms, long fingers caressing her as he slowly stroked down to her hands. His fingers interlaced with hers and he brought first one of her hands and then the other to his mouth, kissing each finger separately and then licking between them. He sucked one of her fingers into the hot wet heat of his mouth and slowly ran his tongue up and down its length before letting it slide back out.

She was watching him, mesmerized by the feelings he was causing but also the care he was taking with her body, the slow steady touches of a man who had nowhere he would rather be. He stretched her arms out over her head, leaving soft kisses as far as he could reach. She took advantage of the situation to run the tip of her tongue against the line of his throat and then gently nipped at his shoulder. He let go of her hands and slid his fingers slowly down her outstretched arms.

He returned the love bites, letting his teeth join in the sensual foray across her skin. Long slow wet kisses were accompanied by hands roaming, clutching, stroking across her body and his. Finally, he slid one hand across the fabric of her knickers. He cupped her through the thin cotton and her thighs clamped shut on his hand reflexively. He didn’t move his hand, just held her while he kissed down her neck. He nipped at the soft skin and she moaned, and as his tongue flicked out to taste her she slowly relaxed again. He started to stroke her, ever so slowly, through the fabric, and the whimper she vocalized was one he had never heard from her before. He smiled against her skin as he continued to gently rub her. He kissed his way down to her breast and sucked a taut nipple into his mouth again, rolling it with his tongue as he started to slowly increase the amount of pressure his hand was exerting between her legs. He felt her hips lift from the bed as she pressed up against his questing hand.

The rocking motion of her hips continued as they moved in time with the slow ministrations of his fingers. He could feel the cotton dampening as she responded to his touch, but it wasn’t until he heard her shuddering cry of his name that he moved on. He reluctantly let go of her breast and kissed down to the waistband of her knickers. Her skin had taken on a faint flush, and she let out a little sound of disappointment when he removed his hand from between her thighs. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and slowly tugged them down her long legs, kissing the skin they exposed. He traced the line of her hip with his tongue, down her thighs, long fingers caressing the delicate skin at the back of her knees, the line of her calf, the arch of her foot. He tossed her knickers aside as he knelt on the bed at her feet, and smiled as he surveyed her exposed body. She nervously moved to cover herself, but he shook his head and she stopped. “You are truly beautiful, Lia.”

“That’s a good thing to say to a naked woman,” she replied, and he could tell she didn’t believe him. Again he mentally cursed her previous boyfriends. How could they not have appreciated this elegant creature? Long and lithe and lovely, she bewitched him and he wanted to spend the rest of his life memorizing every inch of her body. He slowly moved back up her body, and she watched him advance like a panther stalking his prey. She shuddered at the look in his eyes, knowing that he was going to claim her as his own.  He pressed himself to her, letting her feel the full weight of his body against hers as he kissed her for one long breathless moment. Her hands stroked down his back and clasped his ass through his jeans. She instinctively pressed up against him, her legs separating, seeking to cradle him and his hardness between her thighs.

Ben moaned softly against her mouth as he felt her wrap her legs loosely around him. “Not yet, darling. We have so much more to do before we get there.”

She pouted as he rolled to one side again, but the look on her face morphed seamlessly into one of surprised pleasure as he slid his hand in between her legs again. She clutched at his shoulder as she felt him slide his long fingers slowly against her wetness. He repeated the caress until her breathing turned ragged and he could feel her fingernails digging into back. She rocked her hips up against his questing hand and he slipped his middle finger between her wet folds, and then dragged it slowly upwards, letting every bump and ridge of his finger drag across her clit.

He’d never heard that sound before either.

He lazily circled her clit with his finger tip, just teasing it lightly as he watched her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, and her extensive vocabulary had been reduced to little needy sounds, whimpers of pleasure, and his name. Her hips set up a circular motion that matched pace with his hand and he felt a surge of satisfaction deep in his gut. As much as he hated that she had never experienced this before, he loved knowing that he was going to be the one to introduce this to her.

He slid his finger back down and slowly pushed inside her. The cry she made was  the sweetest drug. He nestled the heel of his palm against her clit and slowly stroked in and out of her tight body. Her one hand was still digging into his back, and he watched as her fingers dug into the sheets underneath her, desperately seeking for some kind of hold on reality. She was going up in flames like dry grass in a lighting strike and he blew on the embers, sending them higher. He crooked his finger inside her searching for that spot that would stoke the furnace and smiled in satisfaction as he found it. Her mouth fell open and he felt her nails rake across his shoulders.

He slowly pushed a second finger inside her and her eyes flew open and sought out his with a kind of glazed desperation that made her fire rush through his body as well. He pumped his fingers in and out of her with increasing speed, his thumb circling her clit, and he bent down to kiss her. Her mouth was hot and hungry, and she bit at his bottom lip, dragging her teeth along the soft skin. She was so close. He could tell by the urgency in her kisses, the arc of her back as she moved in concert with his hand, the whiteness of her knuckles as she clawed at the sheet beneath her.

She sank her teeth in her own bottom lip, and he could see the frustration building in her. “I can’t,” she cried out.

“Yes, you can, just let it happen,” his voice brushed against her ear.

He twisted his fingers inside of her, increasing the friction sliding against her body. She cried out again, her eyes widening even further with the movement of his hand.  She called his name like a desperate prayer and all the tension in her body was knotting into one white-hot ball of heat deep in her stomach. He twisted his fingers again and bent to suck a mark of ownership onto her shoulder. The sweet-hot pain of his lips on her skin caused a spark to ignite in her and she suddenly exploded. Her legs clamped shut around his hand but he continued to stroke her, drawing out the length of her orgasm. His name rang in his ears, her cry of pleasure being her call for him. As she slowly relaxed he gathered her in his arms and pulled her against him and she rested her head on his chest. After her breathing regained some semblance of normalcy, she giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Ben asked, as he brushed his lips against her hair.

“So that’s what all the fuss is about.”


	8. Nicest Thing by Kate Nash

_gif by[amygloriouspond](http://amygloriouspond.tumblr.com/post/42221018409/lestrade-got-anything-sherlock-not-much)_

[Nicest Thing](http://grooveshark.com/s/Nicest+Thing/28DW6B?src=5) by Kate Nash

“Well, that’s some of what the fuss is about.” His laughter rumbled deep in his chest.

She smiled coyly and trailed her hand down his stomach to the button on his jeans. “Would you like to show me more of the fuss?”

“Like to? Absolutely. But I’m not going to.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Why not?”

 He brushed his lips against her head. “I don’t want to push you. I just didn’t want you feeling like you’re broken, like sex is something that’s going to end our relationship for some reason.”

She giggled again. “I definitely don’t feel broken.” She stretched like a cat waking from a nap, and shifted so she sprawled more across his chest, resting her chin on her arms across his chest so she could look up at him. “I feel…definitely not broken.”  She laughed. “I’m not sure what the word I want is, but it’s not broken.”

She squealed in surprise as he flipped her onto her back and loomed over her. “You don’t feel broken to me, either.” His voice was like the purr of a jungle cat. “But, my dear Lia,” he peered down at her with a slow smile spreading across his face, “this is not about me, this is about you. I will please you and bring you to orgasm over and over until you are so exhausted you don’t even have the energy to ask me to stop. But my pleasure will wait until the two months are fully up.”

His words left her breathless. “But you don’t have to do that anymore. I forgave you. I want you.”

“I know. And as much as I want you, and believe me darling, I _want_ you, I also want to prove to you that I can put your needs above my own.”

“And if I say that I need you?” She looked up at him pleadingly.

“Lia.”

“MMmmmm, come on and let Little Ben out to play.” She stroked her hand over the front of his jeans and smiled flirtatiously as she felt the size of the erection straining against the fabric. “Or should I say ‘Not-so-Little Ben’?”

“Lia,” he sighed her name as he helplessly rubbed against her hand.

“Please, don’t make me spend two weeks wondering if you’re going to leave me too. “

 He stilled as he looked her in her tear-filled eyes. “Is that what you think of me?”

“My history has built a labyrinth around me that I can’t escape.” She sounded broken again.

“Lia, I love you. Even if you aren’t good at first doesn’t mean you can’t learn. And darling, I very much doubt you have anything to worry about considering the way you went up in flames under my hands.”

“Please, Ben, I need to know. I need to have something solid to stand on. I’ve lost so much already. If I’m going to lose you too, I want to get it all over with at the same time.” Her hands scrabbled at his back, trying to pull him down to kiss her, a wave of panic surging around her and threatening to drag her under in a riptide of insecurity. He reached for her hand and then held it against the mattress by her head, intertwining his fingers with hers. He repeated the action with her other hand and then let the weight of his body settle more firmly on her.

“Hush, Lia, you need to calm down.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I ever leave you?”

“Everybody leaves me. Friends leave, boyfriends leave, my parents leave. I am so alone.”

“Do you feel alone right now?” His watched her carefully as she focused on him, coming back from that edge of grief and panic.

She shook her head.

“I’m not going to leave you, Lia.”

“Promise?”

“Amelia, I’m going to hold you tonight while you sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow night and do the same thing. You know that I have to go to Cardiff Wednesday. I’ll see you again either Friday night or Saturday morning depending on how shooting goes. You know I’m gone a lot. That’s just the way my life works. But that doesn’t mean I am leaving you.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go to work.”

“I know darling,” and he released one of her hands to stroke her cheek and smooth her hair away from her face, “but I have to go.”

“Call in sick.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you could. You’re the star. It’s not like they can fire Sherlock Holmes.”

“I won’t do that, Amelia. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh, and leaving me alone is?” She pushed at his chest but he didn’t move, except to grab her hand and pin it down by her head again.

“Lia, you know I would be here if I could. But this is why I hired you an assistant, so you wouldn’t be alone.”

“Oh, so now you want me keep him in my bed at night? You need to make up your mind.”

Ben sat up, shocked by the sudden vitriol in Amelia’s voice.

“Where is this coming from?”

“If you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s fine. But stop trying to make yourself seem _all noble_ because of it.” Her normally beautiful face was contorted in a sneer as her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Lia, there’s a difference between wanting something and actually doing it. I want to make love to you, but I don’t think right now is a really good time to take that step in our relationship.”

“Why not? I want it! You want it! What are you waiting for?”

“For things to calm down. I want our first time to be special, to be out of love, not desperation.”

“But I love you!” Her yell echoed in the room as he tried to figured out what to do.

“This,” he gestured at her, encompassing not her body but her behavior, “isn’t love. It’s fear. You’re afraid you’re going to lose me, and you need to trust me when I say that I am not going to leave you.”

“You don’t really love me. You can’t even bring yourself to fuck me!”

“Fucking and love are two entirely different things, and I’m sorry if you’ve never been the proper recipient of either, but I am not going to give in to your temper tantrum. You’re overwrought, you’ve had a major loss, and I’m not going to make things worse by making love to you when you’re hysterical just to calm you down. I’m not one of those guys who screws anything with a hole.”

“Just get out. You don’t love me.” She hit him on the chest with the side of her fist.

He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t hit me,” he said quietly, the words coming out between clenched teeth.

“Then just leave.” She practically growled the words, her eyes aglint with feral energy.

“Lia, what is going on? This isn’t like you.”

She yanked her hand free from his grasp. “Don’t call me Lia. That’s not my name. And I want you out of my house. Now.”

Ben was confused by this anger. It seemed so out of character for Lia. She’d never gotten mad at him before except the night he had kissed Anna. She was glaring at him, her face contorted in a scowl that had him reflexively backing away. “Okay. I’ll go.” He held up both hands in an appeasing gesture as he backed away from her. “I’ll go, but if you change your mind and want me to come back, just call me.”

He picked up his shirt from the floor and walked out the bedroom door, shutting it quietly behind him. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a guttural scream and the sound of something shattering against the wall. He paused, torn between his desire to take care of the woman he loved and his fear of making the situation worse. Finally, after hearing no more noises, he decided to leave.

A short while later, he knocked on Martin’s door. He was welcomed with cheery surprise. “Can’t wait until tomorrow to see me, mate? This is just going add fuel to all those fires that we’re inseperable, especially since Amanda is out for the evening.”

Ben didn’t respond to the good humored teasing, and Martin took a closer look at his friend. “Come in and tell me what’s wrong.” They ended up in chairs opposite each other, subconsciously mimicking their positions in Sherlock, as Ben recounted the last few months. Martin knew that Ben and Lia had stopped dating, but other than that it was Ben’s fault, he hadn’t heard any of the details and he hadn’t heard Lia’s parents had died, either. After recounting the day’s events, Ben looked helplessly at Martin. “I don’t know what to do. She’s hurting so much and I don’t know how to fix it and I think I made it worse.” Martin could offer nothing but friendship and whiskey in response.  

The next day Ben was filming exterior shots in London for the third season of Sherlock. About one pm he checked his phone in between takes and found a text message from Jack. “We have a problem. Please call ASAP.”

His heart in his throat, he rang Jack. “What’s going on?”

“I’m standing on Ms. Stafford’s porch. I’m not really sure how to say this.”

“Just spit it out. Right now I wouldn’t be surprised by anything.”

“When I got here at noon, she asked me to have sex with her. She wasn’t wearing much and was rather aggressive about her demands. I refused, and she started yelling at me. She punched me in the face for coming on to her and then threatened to break my arm if I didn’t get out of the house. I went out on the porch and she locked me out. I tried talking to her through the intercom and she won’t answer to her name.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t answer to her name?”

“She told me to stop calling her Ms. Stafford or Amelia. She’s insisting her name is Howard.”

Ben scrubbed at his forehead with his hand. He had no idea what to do. Finally, he said, “Do you still have her phone?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, go through her contacts. Look for a doctor. See if there’s any sort of physician or psychiatrist in there and call them. See if they know what’s going on. If you can’t find that, call her uncle Randy and explain what’s going on. See if there’s some sort of history of psychological problems. As soon as you know something, text me. I’ll call back in between shoots. Did she look like she had hurt herself or anything like that?”

“No.”

“Okay, well let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on before calling in the authorities.”

“Will do.”

Forty five minutes later he got a text. ‘Have new info.’

He called back immediately. “How is she?”

“I’ve left her alone and she hasn’t interacted with me either. I called a Dr. Franklin that I found in her contacts and asked the secretary if he saw Amelia. I was told they could neither confirm nor deny if they were seeing a patient. So, I told them that if they were hypothetically treating a patient who did what she did this afternoon, how concerned would they be and the secretary asked me to hold for the doctor.”

“Oh god, what’s going on?”

“Dr. Franklin, who is a female FYI, came on the phone, asked me a ton of questions, and then said she would be over at six this evening after she was done seeing patients. She told me not to interact with Amelia unless she engaged me first, to let her leave the house if she wanted to but to follow her, and to not call her by name.”

Ben raked a hand through his curls and sighed deeply. “So we just wait?”

“Yes. And leave her alone.”

“I will be there by six. Probably not much before then, but I will be there.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her this afternoon.”

“It’s my job. And my sister has bipolar disorder, and while her manic episodes look different than what Ms. Stafford did, I’ve seen things like this before. I’ll keep her safe.”

“Thank you. Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

Ben arrived at Lia’s house at a quarter til six. Martin had backed him on his need to leave the shoot early, and he so rarely asked for any accommodation that the producer realized something serious was happening and let him go without asking questions. Dr. Franklin arrived a few minutes later, a small round woman with grey streaked through her black hair. She introduced herself and then briskly walked up to the front door and pushed the intercom button. “Hello, it’s Dr. Franklin. Can I talk to someone please?”

Several seconds later, a gruff voice answered. “What?”

“Hi, who am I speaking to?”

“Howard.”

“Hi Howard, do you remember me?”

“Yes.”

“Jack and Ben called me. They said you’re having a rough week. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I’m always fine.” The voice sounded dull and flat.

“How’s everyone else?”

“I’m keeping them safe.”

“You always keep them safe. You’re very good at that.” She sounded very reassuring.

“Someone has to keep an eye on them.”

“Has anyone new arrived recently?”

“There’s a new girl. She sits in the corner and doesn’t say much. She just cries.”

Dr. Franklin’s shoulders slumped. “She must feel very sad.”

“I guess. It gives Martha something to do.”

“Would it be okay if I came in and we talked some more?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “I guess.”

“Is it okay if Jack and Ben come in too?”

This question was met with a long pause. “As long as they don’t touch me. Or any of the others.” There was a not so thinly veiled threat in her tone.

Dr. Franklin looked at them and they both nodded. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

The sound of the door unlocking was loud on the quiet street.

_gif by ivemissedsomething_


	9. Kid Fears - Indigo Girls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with Amelia’s past. There is a lot of trauma of physical, sexual, and emotional types. Please consider yourself warned and proceed cautiously if these types of events are triggering or upsetting for you.

[Kid Fears - Indigo Girls](http://grooveshark.com/s/Kid+Fears/4A84sC?src=5)

When the door opened, Ben saw Lia, though she looked completely different than he was used to. A pair of loose black carpenter jeans sagged around her hips, with a large black graffiti covered t-shirt hanging over them.  She had a black leather metal-studded bracelet on one arms. She had tied a bandana around her head and was wearing a cap askew over it. Her eyes were completely devoid of any warmth and her jaw stuck out at a defiant angle. She looked remarkably like the skateboarding punks that he had met filming “The Blind Banker,” and if he hadn’t known she was female, he never would have suspected.

Lia, or was this Howard, walked into the house, leaving them to shut the door. Ben closed the door and followed as Howard led them into the living room, and sat slouching in a big chair, his legs spread wide and one hand dangling between his thighs. Dr. Franklin sat in the chair next to him as Ben and Jack stood awkwardly until she motioned for them to sit on the sofa.

“Howard, did you hit Jack?”

Howard rolled his eyes like a teenager responding to an annoying mother’s scolding.

Dr. Franklin remained calm. “We’ve talked about you hitting people before.”

“What am I s’posed to do? Nothing says get the fuck out like a fist to the face, eh?”

“Howard, did you try talking to Jack before you hit him?”

He looked away sullenly. “No,” he muttered.

“Well let’s work on that. Is everyone else feeling safer now?” She sounded like a combination between a loving mother and a tour guide.

He nodded.

“Do you think I could talk to Amelia?”

Ben watched as Howard’s face went blank, like he was mentally a thousand miles away, except it was obviously not Howard. She appeared to shrink, as she curled up in the chair, tucking her legs to the side and hugging herself. The closest thing he could compare it to was him going into character for a scene. She looked at Dr. Franklin with surprise. “What are you—,” and then she saw Ben sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees watching her with fascination and concern and then the bruises blooming on Jack’s cheekbone. She looked down at herself and held out her hands, seeing the abrasions on her own knuckles, and then closed her eyes like she was trying to fight back tears. She choked out the words, “I’m so sorry,” and then fled from the room. Ben stood to go after her, but Dr. Franklin stopped him.

“She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

He sat back down on the couch, collapsing back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling. This was far and away more bizarre than all of the possible scenarios that had been playing themselves on repeat in his head since last night. “So, she has multiple personalities?” he asked the ceiling.

“It’s called disassociative disorder identity. But yes.”

“How many?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the particulars of Ms. Stafford’s case with you without her permission.”

Ben sighed. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“You’ll have to ask her that.”

Ben closed his eyes. All he could think about was what this meant for him and Lia and their future. He loved Lia. He most definitely did not love Howard. “Is this genetic?”

“Yes and no. DID shows up more frequently in families with a history of mental illness, especially schizophrenia, but I’ve never seen a case of DID where there wasn’t also an initial trauma that caused the first disassociative identity to emerge.”

“So if Lia and I were to have children…” He let the sentence trail off.

There was a long pause before she answered. “That’s something you need to discuss with Amelia. But no, children are not born with DID.”

They sat in silence for several more minutes before Amelia returned. She had pulled her hair into a low braid that hung forward over her shoulder. She was wearing a big jumper over pyjama pants and the saddest expression Ben had ever seen on her face. This wasn’t the sorrow and grief that he had seen the night she lost her parents. This was bone-deep exhausted sadness, and he had no idea what to do to alleviate it.

She slowly walked over to where Jack was sitting and reached out a hand to his cheek, but she pulled back before she touched the bruise. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you. It was Howard.”

She turned to Ben and he could see the tears start to slip down her pale cheeks. She started to speak but choked on the first word and he saw her face crumple as the few tears turned into a cascade. He stood and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to his chest. He didn’t know what else to do. He wanted to promise that everything would be okay, but he honestly didn’t know if he could ever say that again.

 When she stopped crying she pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

His smile was tremulous as he tried to offer comforting words but he was tongue tied. She went and curled up in the chair Howard had sat in.

“How are you doing, Amelia?” Dr. Franklin asked.

“I think the fact that you’re here answers that.”

“Do you know what happened?”

She shook her head.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was in bed with Ben.”

Dr. Franklin looked over at him. “When was that?”

“I’m assuming last night. It could have been the night before that, but I’m pretty sure it was last night.”

“We had just–, I remember orgasming, and us talking for a minute, and then you not wanting to go any further.”

“That was last night.” He refused to look at Jack. He didn’t want to know what the other man was thinking of this situation.

“Do you remember how you felt?”

“Good, at first. Really good. But then I got mad that he didn’t want to have sex with me.”

“It’s not that I –” Ben started to explain, but Dr. Franklin hushed him with a curt hand movement.

“And then I thought that he was just like the others. That I wasn’t good enough for him. That’s the last I remember.”

“Howard said there’s someone new.”

Amelia nodded.

“For how long?”

“Since my parents were killed.”

“So almost two days now?”

Amelia nodded again. It was odd seeing her so reticent. He was so used to her talking herself in circles with him.

“Do they have a name yet?”

“Not yet. She pretty much has just been crying the whole time.”

“How are you feeling about your parents’ death?”

“I’ll miss them.” She seemed oddly stoic about it.

“How long has it been since you lost time?”

“A few months? I think?” She shook her head. “I don’t know positively but that’s the last time I definitely remember having a gap, but it was just for a few hours.” She looked at Ben and Jack. “I really am sorry. You must have so many questions.”

Ben laughed half-heartedly. “A few.”

“Then ask them.”

“Really?”

“Get it all out at once. And Dr. Franklin’s here so she can explain things I can’t. And the more you know, the more you can help.” She looked down at her hands which she had been twisting over each other. “Or choose to get out while you still can,” she added quietly.

“I guess my first question is how many of you are there?”

“Well, there’s only one me. I have other identities or alters if you want to call them that. I got my first one when I was six. My twin sister,” Ben’s eyes widened in surprise, “was killed in a car wreck. She was decapitated and it took them six hours to cut us out of the car. I had seven broken bones.”

She looked up at him and saw his face pale, as if all the blood had drained from it. She looked back down at her lap. People thought I was just pretending when I would make them call me by her name. But I actually had created two separate identities. One was named Charlotte after my sister. And the other was Daphne which is actually my first name. Amelia is my middle name. I started insisting people call me that. I literally don’t remember the accident at all, but Daphne does. They are both still six.”

She sighed. “Then there’s Samantha. She showed up when I was fifteen. I had some not nice experiences with guys and Samantha showed up to protect me. She’s eighteen and very aggressively sexual. You might have met her,” she looked up at Ben who nodded his head.

“I think I did.”

Jack said, “I think I did, too.”

Amelia’s eyes widened in horror. “Really?”

He nodded regretfully.

She sighed deeply. “Samantha got pregnant. I didn’t know she was having sex, and by the time it was obvious something was going on, it was too late to have an abortion, not that I would have. My parents had me legally declared incompetent to parent and the baby was placed for adoption. I never even saw her. They also had me sterilized so I can’t get pregnant again. I’m not sure how you convince a doctor to do a hysterectomy on a seventeen year old, but apparently if you have enough money, anything can happen.” Ben wondered at the calmness with which she was reciting all this. It was if it had all happened to someone else. In a way, he guessed that it had. “It was after that they we started keeping a journal where all of us could share information about what was going on in our lives if it might affect anyone else. That’s where I found out that my mom told Samantha that she wished that I had died in the accident as well because it would have made her life easier. Mom was drunk at the time. She drank a lot. Of course, that might be my fault as well.” She stopped for a few moments, and Ben could tell she was sorting through memories she didn’t want to talk about. He wondered what could be worse than what she had already shared.

“Howard showed up not long after that. Along with Martha and her baby. I’ve never met the baby. It’s always down for a nap. But Martha’s nice. She takes care of Charlotte and Daphne and tells them bedtime stories. And now there’s this new one. So I guess that makes, what, seven of us all together now?”

Ben didn’t even know what to say. It was as if every word that came out of Amelia’s mouth was a stone thrown the windows of their future together, and he was trying not to get hit by the shards of razor-edged glass flying around him.

“Do your alters age?” Jack asked.

She shook her head. “Samantha has always been eighteen. Howard is twenty five. Martha is mid-thirties. She won’t say if you ask her. This new one looks older than that. I think she’s Indian. She has a bindhi.”

“Do you age?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m the main, and they all recognize that this is my body in a way that it isn’t theirs. Of course, they still do whatever they want, but really the only ones that I think still come out are Samantha and Howard. I know Howard wants a tattoo, but he hasn’t actually gone through with it. Samantha pierced her navel one time and then it got infected. So now she just has the clip on ones. Martha and the twins just sort of hang out together.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Ben said.

“Do what?” Amelia asked.

“Be in—.” He stopped and then started over. “Do you want children?”

“Fuck no.” The very thought seemed abhorrent to her. “I’m not putting any child through me as a parent.”

“It never occurred to you to mention that to me?”

“We’ve been dating three months. I’ve barely even said that I love you; why would I have brought up children?”

“Because I desperately want to be a father.” He said it like it was obvious.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

He lurched to his feet, running his hands through his hair and making his curls stand out as he tried to keep from screaming. “Everybody in the  _world_ knows that. There have been entire headlines dedicated to my ‘broodiness’, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, excuse  _me_  for not reading your press,” she yelled back at him, her face contorting in anger.

He flinched and waited to see what would happen next.

She just shook her head and bitterly laughed. “And  _there_  it is.” Her eyes watered she was so furious. “That goddamn look. That look right there is why I don’t tell people. Because I’m not allowed to be me and have a full range of emotions anymore once people know. If I get mad, they are worried I’ve become someone else. I’m still a person! Don’t you understand that? I’m still me! But you’re never going to see that, you’re just going to see me as a freak that you have to tiptoe around.”

“You have to give me some time to adjust to this, Lia.”

“Fine, go take all the time you need, but you’re not going to do it while you watch me like some dangerous animal in a zoo. You’re not going to do it in my home.”

“You want me to leave?” He looked incredulous.

“Yes. The last thing I need right now when I’m already under so much stress is you sitting there staring at me with a shattered look on your face. I’m sorry, but I can’t be responsible for making  _you_  feel better about  _my_  life.”

“Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I’ll go. I’m to Cardiff for the rest of the week, but I’ll call you.”

She nodded. “Goodbye, Benedict.”


	10. Missed My Chance - Griffin House

 

[Missed My Chance ](http://grooveshark.com/s/Missed+My+Chance/4PGgEs?src=5)\- Griffin House

It was with trepidation that Ben let himself into Lia’s hotel suite Friday night. She had left a key for him at the front desk, and as he walked into the room, he saw Lia stretched out on the sofa with her head on Jake’s lap. She was asleep and Jake’s hand rested on her arm, though he moved it to the back of the sofa when he heard Ben come in.

“She tried to stay awake until you got here, but she’s had a really long day. She picked out clothes for her parents and then went through the house to decide what to keep and what to sell. Then she went to the funeral home to drop off the clothes and she insisted on seeing their bodies. And then finally, they read the will and she found out most of the money is tied up in a trust that she won’t be able to access without the approval of a group of trustees.”

He had gotten used to talking to Jack over the last few days. He had probably spent more time talking to Jack than he had to Amelia. Their phone calls over the last few days had been stilted and awkward.

He slumped down on the sofa opposite them. “How is she coping with the stress?”

“Really well. Howard and I had a chat yesterday, but once I made it clear that I was just here to help he left again.”

“A chat?”

“He said if I hurt her he would beat me up, though in much less polite language. I believe he would try. I’m not looking forward to ever having to deal with him actually trying to hurt me. I’m sure I could restrain Amelia, but I don’t think that would help matters.”

Ben looked at him with new respect. “You’ve thought a lot about this.”

“Yes, haven’t you?”

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking more about long-term possibilities than short-term ones.” He’d been thinking about the long term so much that he was sure Martin was sick of hearing him rant about the unfairness of life and the universe. It had all come out the first day back on set in Cardiff. They had been filming a scene where he was supposed to throw a temper tantrum over not having a case and it had ended up with him breaking down in tears in the middle of the 221B set and the director clearing the sound stage for an hour. He had ended up sprawled on the couch he had stretched out on for so many shots pouring out his heart to Martin.

Martin’s advice had been thoughtful and heartfelt. “I know you can get past the multiple personalities with time. Can you get past not having children?” He knew in his heart that the crux of his decision laid there. He and Lia could be happy together. He could learn about her illness, learn how to deal with the other people who lived in her body. Could he be happy never having children?

Jack nodded. “It’s a new normal. You learn how to adjust.”

“How are you so calm about this?”

“My sister is bi-polar. When she gets manic it’s like she’s an entirely different person. It’s not as extreme as what Lia’s dealing with, but I understand the dynamic.” He shrugged. “I’ve been dealing with it for a decade.”

“You call her Lia now?”

“I’m sorry, I can stop.”

Ben shook his head slowly. “No. No, you should call her what you feel comfortable with. And I guess, more importantly, what she feels comfortable with.”

Lia shifted in her sleep and Jack gently brushed her hair back from her face.

“You care for her, as more than a client.”

Jack looked up at Ben. “Is it that obvious?”

“I recognize the look from my own face.”

“I know that you and her are in a relationship. I would never interfere with that.”

Ben shook his head again. “I don’t think you need to worry about me for much longer.”

“You’ve made your decision, then?”

“I love her, but she needs more care than I can give her. And honestly, I want children, and I’m afraid I would resent her over time if I gave that up to stay with her.” He rubbed his thigh absent-mindedly. “I should probably be having this conversation with her, though.”

Jack nodded and squeezed Lia’s arm gently. “Lia, Ben’s here.”

He watched her wake like he had so many times before when she had fallen asleep against him in her library and realized it was probably the last time he would see it. She sat up and pushed her long hair back behind her shoulders. Her face was flushed from sleep.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay. Jack told me about all the things you had to do today.”

Jack stood and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “I’ll let you two talk.” He went in the other room and shut the door behind him.

Ben moved over and took Jack’s spot on the couch beside her.

“You two look like you’re getting along.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He tilted her head up with a finger under her chin. “I’m glad.” He imbued those two words with every ounce of sincerity his years of training allowed him and watched as her chin started to quiver.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, Lia. I love you and I always will. I want children and you want someone who can be there for you more than I can.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“I do love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

He leaned forward and kissed her softly on her lips. They both stood and he hugged her tightly, his hand stroking her long hair as he felt her tremble in his arms, and the tears started down his cheeks as well. “I’m so sorry, Lia. I wish life could be different for both of us.” She felt so natural in his arms, her delicate frame held against him, his cheek against her hair. He kissed the soft strands one last time, one last inhale of her sent of plumeria and Tahitian vanilla, and reluctantly let her go. “I hope you find someone who can give you the life you deserve.”

She sniffed, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks wet with tears. “I hope you can find someone to make you as happy as I wish I could.”

He kissed her on her forehead, a wet-salt anointing as a blessing to keep her safe without him, and then turned and left.

He sat in the back of the chapel the next afternoon, watching her stoically sit through the funeral for both of her parents. Jack sat next to her, where he wished he still belonged. As she followed her parents’ caskets down the aisle of the church, she saw him standing there in his suit. He could see the tear tracks on her cheeks and he had to restrain himself from stepping forward to dry them away. She gave him a quavering attempt at a smile, and he knew she was trying to be strong for him. He watched her slip her hand into Jack’s and barely managed to stay standing until she had exited the church. He slumped down on the hard wooden bench and, resting his head on the back of the pew in front of him, sobbed out his heartbreak.


	11. Comes and Goes (In Waves) - Greg Laswell

[Comes and Goes (In Waves)](http://grooveshark.com/s/Comes+And+Goes+In+Waves/4yK59T?src=5) - Greg Laswell

 

“Darling, this one is for you.” She handed Ben the hand addressed envelope as she sorted through the mail.

Ben opened it, curious who still wrote letters in this age of texting and email.

_Dear Ben,_

_I know you haven’t heard from me in almost eighteen months, but I saw the interview you gave to The Guardian and I wanted to let you know how happy I am for you and all your success. You are truly phenomenal, and I know you would never have accomplished all those things if you had me to worry about._

_Jack stayed on as an assistant for a few more weeks after you left and helped me get my parents’ estate settled and most of the assets sold. He kept in touch after he no longer worked for me, and it went from checking on me a few times a week to us dating. We’re getting married next week. It’s just a little ceremony. We’ll go down to the city clerk and sign our papers and then go away for a bit. Thank you for him. I feel safer with him than I have with anyone else. I haven’t heard from Harold in almost six months, and Samantha in longer than that._

_Thank you for being such an important part of my life. It’s because of you that I got my Ph.D. I ended up using Sherlock Holmes as an undying king figure with his faked death as an updating of the archetype for an empirically based mythos. I never would have known about that without you._

_I know heartbreak takes a while to heal, and I know that it took us both time, but I’m glad you found your happiness as well. You’ll be a wonderful dad, and your child is going to be the most loved baby in the world. All children should be blessed with parents like you._

_Love always,_

_Lia_

Ben folded the letter back into its envelope with a gentle smile and went to go tuck it into his hardback copy of  _The Collected Works of Sherlock Holmes._ Then he went to go find his girlfriend. He could hear her puttering around in the kitchen. She was stirring a pot on the stove and he put his arms around her from behind, barely able to touch hands around her heavily pregnant belly. He kissed her neck. “That smells good.”

“Who was the letter from?”

“Lia. She’s graduated with her Ph.D. and is getting married next week.”

“Really? Who is she marrying?”

“Jack. The guy who I hired as her assistant.”

She turned around so she was facing him. “Funny how things work out like that. If it wasn’t for you, they never would have met. And if it wasn’t for her,” she smiled up at him, “you wouldn’t have been a crying mess on the train to Cardiff.”

“And the nicest woman in the history of the world wouldn’t have felt compelled to make sure I was okay and ply me with tea and biscuits,” he replied, with a grin.

“I must admit, I was surprised when you called me three months later out of the blue and asked me to dinner.” She grinned up at him as she gave him a taste of the marinara sauce she was cooking.

“I’m just grateful I remembered your name.”

She kissed him gently. “Me too.”


End file.
